


martyrs

by bygoneboy



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Mass Effect
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bygoneboy/pseuds/bygoneboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mass Effect and Resident Evil Crossover!</p><p>Piers Nivans has been recovered, and Chris Redfield, still reeling from the shock, finds himself spending his days in the ICU of the hospital, waiting for his ace to get back on his feet. </p><p>When a new patient moves into the room right next to Piers', Chris finds himself spending a lot of time with the patient's friend, Kaidan Alenko. And as it turns out, they've got a lot in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	martyrs

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to do this crossover for a long time. these are two of my favorite pairings, and they've got so much shit in common.
> 
> it was fun to write, so have fun reading!

The ICU is pretty quiet for the weekend, but the only strange thing about it is the fact that he’s been around long enough to notice.

He supposes that’s a part of it, though-- keeping the promise he’d made to himself after the call came: _d_ _on’t you let him down, not this time. Not ever again, don’t you dare._ So here he is. Bleary-eyed, coffee-chugging, stubbly-faced Chris Redfield, wrinkled clothes and hospital breath his only companions.

Well. That’s not entire true, not anymore, anyway. Today there’s been another addition to their little section of the wing.

Chris had stepped outside for a smoke when they’d moved him in, so he didn’t see the damage up close. But this new guy is right next door, and he's gotten glimpses, bandages masking the face, arms swathed and tied down. There’s hardly any skin showing on the man; if Chris didn’t know better, he’d say the newbie has it worse than Piers.

Nivans, that is. First Lieutenant, ace and sniper and…

And friend.

Chris moves forward, leans his forehead against the glass window separating him from the sniper. He can see Piers from there, can see the thing hanging from his right arm. They haven’t cut it off, not yet. They keep talking about waiting, trying to reverse the mutation.

Wishful thinking, in Chris’s opinion. But so had been his hope that the sniper had survived.

Jesus, he’s been on an emotional rollercoaster ever since Piers was recovered. Dragged off of the coastline after weeks of searching, scanning, combing over the area, and Chris had pulled out of his current mission as soon as he’d been granted permission, left his new specialist in charge with a clap on the shoulder and a _don’t fuck it up, soldier._

Yeah, maybe that was a little irresponsible. But his men know what they’re doing and they’ve got each other’s backs.

Piers had no one.

And as it turns out, it’s good that Chris dropped everything to rush back. Because when he’d arrived in the States, the BSAA was already making plans for Piers to go straight into the labs, and no, fucking _no,_ Chris was not about to hand the ace over to a bunch of scientists who’d stick him with needles and run who-knows-what-kind-of tests and pick him apart to find a C-virus adaption. He'd fought them tooth and nail and being one of the original founders has its perks-- in the end Piers had gone into his care, instead of theirs.

But even after that there had been the trial of finding a team of doctors and nurses wiling to work on him, because no one was exactly sure of what to do, and because the way he looked spooked most people, and because the question _is he contagious?_  was a very good question that Chris didn't really have an answer to.

On top of that, Piers had been wildly unstable: thrashing out in mad rages of unconscious seizures and fits. And Chris not only had to deal with watching the sniper flatline--  _twice--_ but he was also still recovering from the initial shock of that word, _alive._

So, yeah. He’s exhausted. He’s been running up on his feet with four hours of drug-induced nightmarish sleep in-between days. He’s been surviving off of tasteless hospital food. He’s beginning to grow a beard.

But he’s here, and Piers is here. And he’s not letting him down, not this time, not ever again.

He shifts in his sleep as Chris watches, the grotesque mutation covering his right side twitching and throbbing with the sniper’s pulse. It doesn’t make Chris cringe anymore. Sure gives him a hell of a guilt trip, though. “Fuck you,” Chris says half-heartedly, stepping away from the window. “You goddamn martyr.”

“Yours too, huh?”

He turns, reflex-fast. The speaker is built like a soldier and he stands like one too-- spine straight, shoulders forward. He’s got black hair that pops up in the front and thick black eyebrows to match; he’s wearing a blue hoodie but he’s holding a leather jacket, and the dog tags around his neck confirm Chris’s first impression. His mouth twists up slightly, voice dry, “I was beginning to think I had the only saint in this entire unit.”

“ _Hell_ no.” Chris twists his mouth back, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. “I’ve lost track of how many times he’s put his ass on the line.”

The man chuckles, strained, unpracticed. “Glad I’m not alone, then,” he says, and offers up his hand. “Kaidan-- Major Alenko, I guess.”

“Chris,” says Chris, taking it, “or Captain Redfield, if you’re feeling up to it. Welcome to the ICU.”

Kaidan chuckles again. “Believe me, it’s not my first trip.”

Chris peers into the adjoined room. “He’s yours?”

“Yeah, that's him. That's Shepard.”

Chris whistles, low. “God damn. He gonna be okay?”

Kaidan looks shaky. “I…sure, I think so. But I’m just sitting on my hands here, I mean, it’s a little up in the air at this point.”

The subject seems dicey so Chris changes it, fast. “You served?”

The major touches the dog tags around his neck. “Well-- yeah. Went in at eighteen. How about you? You’ve got…you know, the look.”

“Started out in the air force,” says Chris. “Now I'm doing bio-terror control.”

Kaidan’s brow creases, but if he’s confused, he doesn’t mention it. They lapse into a comfortable silence instead, their eyes locked on their own patients.

“I never asked to be saved,” Chris says, "you know?"

“Yeah,” says Kaidan. “But if yours is anything like mine, he just can’t help it.”

The long drive home feels a little less lonely, that night, even if it’s still taken alone.

 

\---

 

Kaidan is there the next day, too, and the next, and the next. And before Chris knows it he’s become a permanent fixture in the wing and in Chris’s routine of everyday life in the hospital.

They become a kind of team, lending a shoulder for each other whenever the stress becomes too much. When Shepard has a particularly bad day, Chris takes the major down to the mess hall for lunch. When Chris’s system goes on overload and the panic attacks set in, Kaidan steers him outside and lights him a cigarette.

Most of the time, though, they just sit, waiting for something to change. And things do. Piers’ arm is amputated. Shepard’s vitals fail and stabilize. Piers opens his eyes for the first time. They take Shepard off of the anesthesia.

Chris and Kaidan talk.

For hours, sometimes. Until their throats ache. About whatever.

Chris tells Kaidan stories about his boys from Alpha Team. The time Andy had saran-wrapped the bunk toilet, the time Ben had slipped flour into Carl’s hair-dryer, the time they’d all gotten Piers drunk and had him sing “Highway to Hell” on karaoke.

Kaidan tells Chris stories of his own. The time his friend had dragged half of the crew out on shore leave for a bottle-shooting contest, the time one of their engineers had gotten the hiccups and they’d all spent the day trying to scare them out of her, the time Shepard had challenged everyone to strip poker and was the first to lose.

They talk about sacrifice. What it means to lose a soldier. What it means to be a martyr, or to follow one.

Sometimes Chris says things that Kaidan doesn’t understand--  _he’s never heard of the BSAA--_  and sometimes Kaidan says things that Chris doesn’t understand--  _what the hell does he mean by calibrations?_

But those things aren’t important. What’s important is the fact that they’re talking, listening.

And that for the first time in years, someone else understands.

 

\---

 

Shepard recovers _fast._

Chris isn’t sure how it happens but it’s like they just sealed him up and threw some patches on him and suddenly he’s walking, taking small steps around his hospital room. He watches through the window as Kaidan’s friend carries out his daily pacing and exercises. It’s a crazy recovery, almost a miracle, and Chris tells Kaidan as much.

The major laughs, and says that Shepard's seen worse.

Chris is busier than usual, though, because just a couple of days ago Piers struggled to sit up, licked dry, parched lips, and said “Captain?”

The first word out of his mouth, and Chris wants nothing more than to have him take it back.

“Wish he’d said something else,” he mutters to Kaidan as they refill their coffee mugs, rubbing a hand along his scruffy jaw.

Kaidan glances over at him. “Hmm?”

“I wish--” Chris flushes. “I wish he’d said something else. Wish he’d…blamed me for something. Been angry, I don't know.”

Kaidan stirs a pinch of sugar into his cup, but says nothing.

“It’s just--” Chris wipes his hands on his jeans, frustrated. “He’s missing an arm, you know, and he’s got all these scars-- shit, I don't know how he can stand to look at me."

“It isn't your fault,” Kaidan murmurs. “The arm, and scars. He put you first for a reason.”

Chris closes his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck it, I’m…I feel like this is a second chance. And I don’t want to let him down, not the way I did before.”

“Nobody ever fell in love without being a little bit brave,” says Kaidan gently.

“What?” Chris laughs. “I’m not talking about-- _love,_ I’m-- I’m talking about-- I don’t _love_ the guy--”

“You’re getting coffee all over the counter,” Kaidan points out, and by the time Chris has turned off the machine and mopped up his mess, the major has already left.

 

\---

 

Chris brings Piers his badge.

“You kept it,” the sniper breathes, face lighting up, taking it in his hand like it’s fragile.

“Course I did. Anyone would’ve.”

Piers grins down at it. “You got the blood out, too, awesome-- did you wash it?”

“Claire did.”

“It looks brand-new. Tell her thank-you, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Chris shifts, staring at his shoes.

Piers sets the badge on his bedside table, the tips of his fingers lingering over the four letters inscribed there. “This is really great. Didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

“Well-- you’re welcome, for sure.” Chris claps him on his good shoulder and turns toward the door.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see _you_ again,” Piers says, and Chris stops.

“Piers,” Chris says, shoulders tight with unease.

“It was my choice,” the sniper tells him. “It was my decision, you know that. Right, Chris?”

The sniper’s eyes are the hazel that Chris remembers, and lined with seriousness. “If I could re-do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Don’t say--”

“I wouldn’t.”

Chris’s chest aches.

“I’m glad it’s this way,” Piers says. “I’m so…glad. That you’re alive.”

Chris swallows. “I’m glad, too. That you’re alive.”

Piers smiles again, but this time there’s a hint of something close to sadness. “Okay,” he says, softer, and reaches out to run a finger over his badge. “At least we can agree on that, yeah?”

 

\---

 

Kaidan checks Shepard out of the hospital the next afternoon.

Chris is in the waiting room as they take their leave, sitting in one of the plastic chairs of the wing he’s come to know so well. Kaidan opens the door for Shepard and he hobbles through, his right hand clutching a cane, his left hand gripping the wall. “Hello, freedom,” he says, voice raspy, and Kaidan beams in a way that Chris has never seen before.

“Slow down, John,” he says. “Let’s get your paperwork checked out.”

“Oh-- uh-- hold up.” Shepard screeches to a halt, and immediately Kaidan looks worried.

“What is it? Did we forget something? You got your jacket, right? And your tags--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shepard waves him off. “There’s just…I need to--”

Using his cane for guidance, the soldier crouches carefully to the floor, legs trembling just a little. He reaches into his pocket, lifts one knee halfway, pulls out a box, and suddenly, Kaidan is crying, right there in the hallway of the ICU, and Chris’s mouth is hanging open.

“What?” demands Shepard, holding up the ring. “Why’re you crying?”

“I’m happy,” Kaidan tells him.

“Oh, good. Well, you have to give me an answer, so hurry up. My legs are going to cramp--”

“You haven’t asked me yet,” Kaidan says thickly, hiccuping and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Okay-- Kaidan.”

“Yes.”

“Spectre Major Kaidan Alenko.”

“Yes, Shepard.”

“D'you wanna marry me?”

The third _yes_ gives Chris the feeling that right now, today, there is not one single happier man on Earth. 

The kiss confirms it.

 

\---

 

“So,” says the major, eyes still a little red. “I guess this is good-bye.”

“Guess so.” Chris eyes the ring on his left hand. “I’ve officially seen it all. An engagement in an ICU? Pretty romantic stuff.”

"It's Shepard's style, really, I should've expected..." Kaidan shakes his head, and smiles. “Better here than never.”

“Right…beggars can’t be choosers.”

They stand there for a moment, Chris studying the floor, Kaidan studying Chris.

“Take care of your hero,” Kaidan says at last.

“Ditto that,” Chris replies, but Kaidan doesn’t move.

“Chris,” he says.

Chris throws up his hands. “Yes, okay? I know! I get it, whatever, _nobody ever fell in love without being a little bit brave,_ etcetera, except sometimes, it’s not really as simple as that, because there’s-- _things,_ that don’t just go away when you want them to--”

“What sort of things?”

“I was his captain. That’s not something I can just, you know, _forget--”_

“Shepard was my C.O. for years.”

“Well, it’s not-- it doesn’t make sense--”

“These things never do.”

“I don’t know!” Chris cries. “It's everything, okay? He had my back since day one and I never had his! I let him be a martyr, it was on _my_ watch--”

“He wouldn’t have saved you unless you were worth saving,” says Kaidan.

“I _wasn't!”_

There’s a pause.

“I think,” Kaidan says, “that if you asked him, he would disagree.”

“Fine,” snaps Chris, and, fists clenched, turns on his heel and storms through the ICU, rams through the door to where Piers lies, propped up with three pillows behind his head, and he stands there, in the doorway, with Piers looking up at him in surprise, and quite literally loses it.

“Why?” he barks. “Why the hell, you nearly killed yourself, you fucking _idiot--”_

“Chris--”

“I wasn't worth it, you can’t tell me I was! Look at you, you’re broken, it _broke_ you!”

Piers flinches and when he speaks his voice is quiet. “That's what you think?”

Chris takes one look at the hurt on his face and backtracks, stuttering. “No-- no. I’m sorry, I’m just…”

The sniper watches him struggle. “I’m not saying that you’re any…lesser, now,” Chris says, “I just, I don’t understand what made you do it, and…” He comes up to the bedside, scuffing the toe of his shoe and avoiding Piers' eyes. “Look. I couldn't have been worth it. Not as your captain, or as your friend.”

“No,” Piers says, “you weren’t-- I mean, just," and this time it’s him, looking for words. "Not as a captain," he says. "And not as a friend, you were..."

Chris looks up, mouth dry.

“I’m probably shooting myself in the foot with this,” the sniper says, sheepish. “But I don’t have anything else to lose.”

He stretches out his left hand, shifting to make up for the loss of his right, and cups Chris’s cheek in his palm.

“Saving you,” he says, “is the best thing I have ever done. And you-- are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Chris stares at him, and Piers stares back. He opens his mouth, the corner of his lips against Piers’ hand.

“I haven't shaved in six days,” he says breathlessly.

Piers’ expression slips. Then breaks a little. “I-- uh, what?”

“There hasn't really been time,” Chris explains, “going in between my apartment and here--”

Piers laughs, sharply. “How is this relevant?”

“Uh-- I was just thinking-- it’s gonna be a little uncomfortable, doing this.”

He leans forward but Piers catches on fast, sliding his hand around to the back of Chris’s head, pressing his mouth against Chris’s. It’s eager and rushed but it’s soft, too, and for a first, it’s not terrible.

“You know,” Piers says when it’s over, “the beard isn’t so bad. A little prickly, but that’s fine.”

“Really? I don't know, I wonder if the BSAA would let me keep it on field. I think they're pretty strict about haircuts--”

Piers is kissing the corner of his mouth, which is making it hard to talk.

“I could always just tell them to fuck off,” Chris offers. “Being a founder has its perks--”

“Chris,” Piers says, in between catching his lower lip in between his teeth and kissing the dip above his chin, “maybe we could have this conversation another time.”

And that actually sounds okay, too. Because making out with his first lieutenant is a pretty great alternative.

 

\---

 

There’s not a lot to regret, in the end.

Chris goes back and forth between the States and oversea stations, between sleeping in with Piers on Saturday mornings and clearing out B.O.W.s in half-crumbled cities. At home he’s the sometimes-thickheaded but always-stubborn boyfriend, at work he’s _soldier_ , he's _captain_.

He never sees Kaidan Alenko again.

Which is fine.

But he would’ve liked to say thank you, if he ever got the chance.

 


End file.
